


Mea inimicus, non amplius

by MaskoftheRay



Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Bruce Feels, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce and Harley's relationship is complicated, Character Study, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Moving On, New Beginnings, One Shot, Past Abuse, Sad with a Happyish Ending, TW: Mentions of abuse, and Harley does too, light humor, making amends, short(ish) and sweet, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 12:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskoftheRay/pseuds/MaskoftheRay
Summary: Harley Quinn died years ago, even before Jason’s murder— or at least, that’s what everyonethought.Then one night Dick tells Bruce that there have been reports of a strange woman downtown in the diamond district. A woman who looksawfully likeHarleen Quinzel. Naturally, Batman goes to investigate. A conversation ensues.Or, what if Harley Quinn disappeared, and then came back just to make amends with Batman?





	Mea inimicus, non amplius

**Author's Note:**

> “But listen to me, cast aside the forebodings of all these people, and come”  
— Decimus Brutus

“Hey, Bruce?” Dick asks, sounding nervous. He rarely sounds nervous, these days. Unless it’s something important. Or something sensitive— many topics are between them, now. Especially after Jason.

“Hm?” he grunts, half-turning from his work at the computer. Dick is (still) suited up, only the domino mask is removed. His eldest son looks tense. Nervous. “What?” Bruce asks insistently; he doesn’t _have time _to pry things out of Dick, not these days. If it’s important enough, he’ll just have to forgive Bruce’s impatience.

“Well, it’s… it’s _Harley_,” Dick says flatly, after a moment. Bruce stops typing. Calmly, he brings his (still gloved) hands to the chair’s armrests, where he (calmly) places them so they rest flat against the leather. Dick has his head cocked slightly— like his former bird namesake— and is watching Bruce. Bruce swallows, and offers one sharp nod.

“What about her?” he asks plainly, with as much calm as he can muster; Harley Quinn has _always _been something of a… _touchy subject_ around here. That has only become more true, over the years. At least until she was presumed **_dead_**. That was two years ago— before Jason’s… _abrupt return_ to the living.

“There’s reports of a woman— of _Harley Quinn_— being sighted downtown, in the diamond district. Now, I don’t know if—”

Bruce stands abruptly. His motion is enough to cut Dick off. “I’m going,” he states sharply. Dick nods, and starts to move forward, to where his mask is haphazardly resting on the edge of Bruce’s desk. Bruce holds out a hand, and rests it on his son’s forearm. “No. I’m going _alone_,” he clarifies. Despite the glove, Bruce can feel the way Dick tenses. Slowly, his son steps back— not enough to dislodge Bruce’s hold— and gives him a measured look.

“Are you _sure_ that’s a good idea?” he asks bluntly. Bruce winces. Dick is right to question him. In regard to the clown— _clowns_— he’s made… some **very **questionable decisions, in the past. There is history, inerasable, between him and them.

Bruce lets one stutter-sigh escape. Dick arches a brow, but looks (a bit) less tense.

“We don’t even know if it’s _her_,” he explains (justifies), “and though I trust you—” Dick snorts, and rolls his eyes good naturedly— “_I _still know her, Harleen, best. If it _is_ her, then there’s probably a reason she’s back. And I would like to know what it is.” Bruce looks intently at Nightwing, at his son, and begs him to understand: _I have to know, Dick, if she’s back. I have to know_. Bruce realizes that he’s still holding onto Dick, and lets go.

Dick is still silent, for another moment, before he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, and nods. “Go. I’ll be here,” he says. Bruce adds, mentally, ‘_watching you._’ He’s not sure if he’s grateful, or resentful, of that. But he doesn’t comment, just pulls the cowl up and heads for the car.

But he pauses, before he gets in. “I…” he starts, unsure. “I. Thanks, Dick,” he settles on. His eldest, who has, somehow, become someone who knows him almost as well as _Alfred_, gets it. He nods, and gestures to the car. Bruce smiles, despite the situation, and finishes climbing in. He tears out of the cave, towards downtown.

Over the comms., he hears Dick’s voice say, “She’s still there, B. On top of the old Brixman Family Jewelers building.” Bruce merely grunts in reply, and guns it.

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

Silently, he climbs the rusted fire escape ladder on the next-over building, and glides down behind her. It should be impossible for a normal human to hear him, as his cape makes next-to-no sound when he’s gliding, but, somehow, she does anyway. Only a few people have _ever _been able to do that, and so he knows it’s _her_. Bruce lands with barely a thump, feeling vaguely concerned at how hollow the roof feels under his feet, and she smiles. He does not, of course, return it.

“Heya, B-man,” she says softly.

Bruce says nothing, merely lets his eyes flick quickly over her person, and their immediate surroundings; Harley Quinn has always been dangerous, even if others often underestimated her. There is nothing. Not even the bulge of a pocketknife. She _appears_ to be unarmed. Not that this comforts Bruce. She’s still dangerous enough in hand-to-hand.

Surprisingly, Harley has held still throughout all of this, almost as if she knows what he’s thinking— which _is _a particularly alarming thought, as in addition to the physical danger she presents, Harleen Quinzel (or whatever is _left _of her) is incredibly smart. Bruce has always thought that Jim may know who Batman is, and Harley is another person whom he wonders about. But if she _knows_, or ever suspected, she never said anything. This does not stop him from worrying. Finally, she smiles, and takes a minute, cautious step forward.

Bruce, of course, tenses, and brings his fists half-way up. Immediately, he feels like an idiot. He should not allow her to see him react this way. It’ll only encourage her, in whatever this is. Harley, at his actions, slows. She brings her hands up, eerily white palms held flat and relaxed— a show of surrender. Cautiously, Bruce relaxes his stance. Somewhat.

It is then that she smiles softly, again, at _him_— which is entirely too confusing for Bruce to think about (there is _history_ on both sides of their relationship)— and asks, politely, “Can we talk?”

Bruce drops his stance completely at this, and mentally snarls at himself a moment later for the foolishness. Harley apparently takes this as a sign, and takes another few steps forward, before Bruce is an idiot again, and tenses. She stops. Behind the cowl’s lenses, Bruce blinks. Harley tilts her head, waiting. “I,” Bruce starts. _Great. The second time tonight he’s been tongue-tied_. “Sure,” he finally says.

Harley offers a maniac grin— but something’s slightly different. _Oh_. Bruce, without meaning to, takes a half-step forward. He barely stops himself from reaching up for her face. This whole time, Harley hasn’t had _a mask _on, and Batman hadn’t noticed. Somehow, she notices his shock, and it must be because of her _familiarity _with him, and Harley Quinn _smiles_.

“Yeah, some things have changed,” she acknowledges lightly, and sits cross-legged on the roof. She pats the ground in front of her. Bruce, distractedly, sits. He does not want to imagine how ridiculous he looks, with the cape and costume.

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

The silence is really, truly, getting to be too awkward. Even for Batman, a man who is _renowned _for his succinctness. So Bruce asks (states, really) the most pressing question (fact): “You’re not dead.”

She’s silent a moment, before nodding. “I’m not dead, no siree,” she agrees. And though there’s a bit of humor to it, he can see the tension that is held, carefully in check, in her body. Bruce blinks.

“I thought…” he starts. _How to phrase this_?

“That he killed me?” she asks boldly. There’s a fierceness in her eyes that startles Bruce, a little.

“Well, yes,” he answers bluntly. “That was the most likely scenario.” And this time, she looks startled, and leans forward slightly. Bruce twitches— something that does not escape her attention (she grins) and then stills.

“I didn’t know you thought about me like that,” she says, after another moment. Bruce stills further. He does not know what to say.

“Why are you here?” he steam-rolls. She rolls her eyes, and they avoid his. Abruptly, Harley looks nervous. Bruce tenses again. She gives him a mildly reproachful glare, and huffs.

“Relax, Bats, I’m not gonna hurt ya’,” Harley Quinn rebukes gently. Bruce is pointedly silent. She rolls her eyes again. Opens her mouth, shuts it, and looks, suddenly, more serious. “I’m not _back_, if you catch my drift,” she explains, “I only came ‘cause I heard about the _trouble _you was having with the Red Hood. There’s a rumor that he was a former bird, and….”

Bruce sucks in a deep breath, and sees red for a moment. He hears a creak, and realizes that his tightly-clenched fists are shaking. Carefully, he keeps his gaze pointed at the faded concrete beneath them. If he looks at her, he may do something he regrets. After a moment, he looks up, and forces himself to be _calm_. “So you heard a rumor, and what? Decided to _see if it was true_?” he almost-snaps. He regrets it instantly. There is no need to show her how _angry _she makes him. _Dick was right_.

Harley merely grimaces. “No,” she says, “I came to apologize.”

Bruce stares. The silence takes on a taut, frayed quality.

While Bruce doesn’t exactly _loathe _Harley Quinn, he is no fan of hers, either. He, personally, understands how the Joker’s poisonous, slick way with words can sicken a person, twist them until they almost don’t recognize themselves. He has also studied psychology (though not as extensively as she has) and knows the mindset of those who have been abused. Harley had surely been abused, no matter whatever _else _she was. There was also, he knew, genuine medical distress affecting the woman, in the form of a mental illness of some sort. So all of this twists together, and influences his view of Harley Quinn. But, despite his sympathy— and there is _some_— Bruce cannot, entirely, forgive her, either. Not for what she’s done to him, not for what she’s done to Gotham, not for what she’s helped the Joker do to his _family_.

“Bats, you in there? I didn’t break ya’, did I?” Harley asks, from _significantly closer_ than before. He brings a hand up automatically, toward where she’s half bent over him, and she flinches. Bruce stops his hand, and feels a wave of anger roiling through his stomach. _Damn that clown_. She passes off the flinch as standing up, and he lets her. Bruce, slowly, stands too.

He sighs. _Well, this has gone to shit_. Maybe, for once, it’s time to try a different approach. “Explain. Please,” he requests softly.

Harley turns, so she’s looking out at the dim stars of Gotham’s night (almost early morning) sky, and says, “I ran away. From him. That’s why you all were thinkin’ I was dead.”

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

According to Harley, the decision was made a few months after she was hospitalized. “You remember _that_, don’t cha’, B-man? When he pushed me outta a **window**,” she says with dark humor. Bruce tenses— _yes, he **does **remember that_. Joker had been planning something, again, and hit her. “It was the littlest thing, Bats. Not even a love peck, by his standards. But I just… I had what they call _a moment of clarity_ right then, an’ I decided I’d had enough. I cleared out about two weeks later, after that.”

She swallows, glancing him over to (apparently) gauge his reaction, and continues, “And then, later, _much later_, I heard about what happened to Robin.” Bruce closes his eyes briefly behind the mask, uncaring of the foolishness of such an action. There’s a sharp _pain_ in his chest, like _knives_. The memory, even now, is bitter, and raw. “I heard about th’ Red Hood, an’ it just didn’t feel right, to leave things as they were. I just… I just want cha’ to know, if I’da been there, I woulda tried to _stop him_.”

A heavier, more fraught silence descends over them. Distantly, Bruce thinks bitterly, _That wouldn’t have ended well. There might have been another body to deal with then— _and forces himself back to the present. Harley is looking at him. Bruce blinks, and forces himself to _look _at her (somehow, she can always tell). He swallows, and says stiffly, “I… understand.”

She smiles, but it’s tainted with a hint of bitterness, and heartbreak; perhaps she too realizes the emptiness of her words, the impracticality of them. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Thank you.” And with that, Bruce has a sense that this has been a sort of _final _meeting.

Slowly, Harley approaches. Bruce holds himself still— but at this point, he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be attacked. He prepares for it anyway. Dealing with Harley has _always _felt like he’s being stabbed (whether that be literal or emotional). “Can I hug ya’?” she asks. Bruce, after a momentary debate, acquiesces. It’s not like he’ll see her again. A goodbye is a goodbye, and she seems to want it. He nods. She grins. “You’re the best, Bats!”

The blonde woman’s arms come around Bruce’s waist, and squeeze. Awkwardly, after a moment, he pats her hand. She squeals. They stay like this for a little longer, before Bruce’s inherent social anxiety (and sense of self-preservation) kick in. “Hm,” he coughs. Harley snickers, before releasing him. Her blue eyes, so unusually _clear_, without the mask, are sad.

“I’m trying t’ be a better person now,” she confesses, looking at her feet. She fidgets. “It don’t always work, but I’m tryin’. I got a job, and my own apartment— not here, of course. That wouldn’t be safe, or very helpful for my recovery. I just… wanted some closure with ya,’ you know?” Harley asks. Bruce hears her plea: _understand me. Forgive me_. He _comprehends _what it is to struggle with overcoming the past, especially in recent years.

“I understand,” he says. And this time, even at its highest setting, the vocal modulator can’t quite remove all the softness from his tone.

Harley smiles fiercely at him, and nods. “Good. I… I was hopin’ you would. I… _thanks_, for understandin’.” Bruce nods, and steps away. Harley, likewise, turns.

After a few steps, Bruce pauses. There’s one last thing he needs to do. “Harley,” he calls. She stops, and turns. Bruce opens a particular pouch on the belt, and tosses a small, circular black item at her. She, predictably, catches it with ease, and inspects it curiously. Then she gives him a confused look. “A communicator,” Bruce explains, “in case you ever need to contact me. I… there’s no way to track you, and I won’t look into your business, if you don’t want me to, but if you need it, I—”

Harley grins, and her eyes look a little glossier than usual. Bruce feels a slight buzz of panic. “Thank you, Bats,” she says. Harley carefully tucks the comm. into her pocket, as if it’s a diamond. “I’ll remember that. You take care of yourself too, an’ if _you _ever need my help, don’t be afraid to seek me out.” She looks at him mock-seriously, and Bruce snorts.

“I… will take that into consideration. Goodbye,” he says.

Harley grins sharply, and swallows. “Goodbye, Bats. An’ good luck!” With that, she turns, and doesn’t look back. Bruce watches, for a moment, and also turns. He strides swiftly to the edge of the roof, and firmly _does not_ look over his shoulder. He glides to the ground, and lands softly besides the car.

“So… what _happened?_ Was it her?” Dick demands, as soon as he’s turned the car on.

“It wasn’t her,” he growls, feeling a slight pang of guilt for _lying_ to Dick. _No, not lying_. That had not been Harley Quinn— she was dead now— but a new woman. A woman who was trying to be _better_ by building herself a new life. She didn’t need nosy vigilantes following her around.

“Oh,” Dick says, “okay then. That’s a relief.” Bruce flicks off the comm. and drives.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the Latin’s shitty— I don’t know the language, and used a free online translator for it (if you know Latin, and have suggestions for how to translate the title: “My enemy, no longer” that’d be great.) Thanks for understanding. 
> 
> So, I pictured this story to be set pretty much in BTAS universe, with some outside influences. I think you’ll all get the references to “Mad Love” in here (what a tragic episode). Also, the slight AUness comes from Harley running off. ‘Cause she never actually does that in a lot universes, unfortunately for her. And Dick may have forgiven Bruce faster than he did in canon— but you know what we do with things we don’t like in canon? WE TOSS ‘EM OUT. This is fan-fiction, after all, and I can do what I want (I don’t own ‘em, though). 
> 
> And here’s my mini-rant, justifying my soft Batman and Harley relationship: 
> 
> BTAS is awesome, for a lot of reasons. One of them, obviously, is Harley Quinn. I like how her intelligence isn’t downplayed, and how she does awful things, but is still sympathetic (again, “Mad Love”). Also, I like how _emotional_ Bruce sometimes gets to be in the series (even if it’s mostly expressed through angst). I think that, at his core, Batman is kind; even if it’s hidden (or if he sometimes acts like an ass) and so I don’t think he’d truly, completely **hate** Harley Quinn. But, given what she’s done, he couldn’t _like her_ completely, either. So, in other words, they have an ambiguous relationship. A *very* ambiguous one. 
> 
> Harley has also, at various points in various media, shown independence, and a hint of a conscience. So I don’t think she’d really be all-for killing a Robin. I think she might draw the line there. Because there’s bad, there’s evil, and then there’s the Joker. So I think she actually would be at least upset upon hearing about Robin’s death. Therefore, I think that these two wouldn’t always interact in a completely hostile manner, and that there is room for some (a *little*) understanding between them. Rant done. 
> 
> **Now with a sequel**, which you can find [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376894).


End file.
